


what kind of man loves like this?

by braigwen_s



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: The Truth (Discworld), Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: Angua watched with half-frustration, half-bewildered. Why wouldn’t they just say it, either of them? There had been eyewitnesses. Vetinari had stabbed Drumknott.So much loyalty, she thought.  What kind of man inspires this?
Relationships: Ambiguous Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes, Carrot Ironfoundersson/Angua von Uberwald, Havelock Vetinari & Wuffles, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rufus Drumknott & Havelock Vetinari
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	what kind of man loves like this?

**Author's Note:**

> YOU INSPIRED A FIRE OF DEVOTION THAT WOULD LAST FOR TWENTY YEARS. WHAT KIND OF MAN LOVES LIKE THIS?

“He didn’t do it,” said Drumknott, as soon as he woke. “He would never harm me without a good reason.”

Vimes leaned forward. “What if he thought he had a reason?”

No, that was a lie. That happened five minutes after Drumknott woke, not right away. What really happened as soon as Drumknott woke was this:

“Where is His Lordship?” asked Drumknott. “Is he alright?”

“Lord Vetinari’s just next door,” said Vimes, in his reassuring, fatherly voice. “We’re keeping him safe.”

“I want to know what happened,” said Drumknott.

“Yeah,” said Vimes, “you and me both. Maybe you can answer a few questions.”

Drumknott’s face collapsed.

Angua watched this all impassively.

That was another lie. Angua watched with half-frustration, half-bewildered. Why wouldn’t they just say it, either of them? There had been eyewitnesses. Vetinari had stabbed Drumknott.

In his sleep, Vetinari was thirty-three years ago.

“So much loyalty,” Madam had said, talking about John Keel. “What kind of man inspires this?”

Vetinari was impassive. Another lie. Vetinari didn’t know the answer. So was that.

“He loves this City,” said Drumknott. “Why would he leave?”

 _Never trust any ruler who puts his faith in tunnels and bunkers and escape routes_ , Vetinari had told Vimes once. _The chances are that his heart isn't in the job._ He loved this City. His heart was in the job. Rather like Vimes.

“He wouldn’t,” said Vimes, roughly. “You don’t need to try and convince me he didn’t do this, Drumknott. I know he didn’t. I just have to work out how to prove it.”

_So much loyalty_ , thought Angua. _What kind of man inspires this?_ She knew that Carrot did, of course, but that was … well, that was different. Carrot was likeable. It was impossible not to like him. Everything about him screamed ‘trustworthy’ from the rooftops, and never lost its voice. Vetinari, on the other hand, screamed ‘evil,’ screamed ‘scheming,’ screamed ‘untrustwoorthy’ in as many over-long words as it could muster. _What kind of man places their trust in him?_

Vimes was hardly even affected by Carrot.

She didn’t know if Drumknott had ever said a word to Carrot, or vice versa.

 _What kind of man places their trust in him? What kind of man inspires this?_ That wasn’t all of it, that wasn’t even all of it. She could smell it. They loved him, too. Drumknott, and Vimes as well. _Who loves this kind of a man?_

“Begging your pardon, Commander Vimeth,” said Igor.

“What is it, Igor? I was just going.”

“I am not saying he wath going, but, on the occaithion that he were…”

“Yes?” Vimes’ voice was testy. Angua’s would be, as well, she admitted to herself. Who was Angua loyal to?

“My cousin Igor’s mithress, she talkth about hith Lordship a great deal. If ever he went somewhere, I think that she would harbour him. So perhapth he wath headed to Überwald.”

 _S_ _he would harbour him_ , thought Angua. _What kind of man inspires this?_

“I’ll take that under advisement,” said Vimes, “thank you, Igor.” They all knew his mind was made up; Vetinari didn’t do it. _What kind of man…?_

Angua wasn’t sure what drew her into the cell where Vetinari was. Her eyes were still burning from the Scallatine oil, and for some reason she had gone wolf-shape. Maybe it was that, as a wolf, she could smell even what people felt in their sleep. Vetinari was thinking, _I want my dog_. How did he know Wuffles was gone? He hadn’t woken for three days. Did he even mean Wuffles? Vimes, after all…

Angua wasn’t sure why she chose Vetinari’s cell to curl up in, under his cot. She wasn’t sure, either, why, when she woke up, his long, thin hand was tangled in her fur. He was still fast asleep.

De Worde found Wuffles.

“What kind of man is this,” asked Angua, “to have such love?”

“He is my God,” said Wuffles, then admitted “but I don’t know. I do not know. What kind of man has so much love to give? And then gives it? I have never met a human who loves like that.”

Angua was so caught up in how to respond to Wuffles interpreting her question upside-down that she didn’t realise until later her question might have been upside-down to begin with. Maybe Wuffles had been barking up the right lampost. Maybe not _who loves this kind of man_. Maybe _what kind of man loves like this_.

Carrot’s voice was earnest and gentle, his hands on her arms supportive but cautious. “What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

“Why do you think one person loves another?” she asked. “Or – no. How do you love this whole City? How do you fit all of that inside of you?”

“I don’t know why, or how,” said Carrot, looking into her eyes. “I just know that I do. And that I love you.”

“I’m a –” she started to say, then stopped herself.

“A werewolf?” said Carrot.

She folded her arms; he let her go. “A dog.”

“Angua, how would that impact my love for you?”

And then she worked it out, with that copper’s flash of inspiration. It wasn’t the way he loved, it was the way people – the way dogs, the way that Vimes and Drumknott and Wuffles – noticed it.

But still. To love an entire City…

_What kind of man?_

“It wouldn’t,” she said, “because you’re you.”

Angua knew exactly what Carrot was, how he could bear it. Vetinari, though, that was still a mystery. He was human, she could smell that, but … that couldn’t be only it. Surely a mere human would go quite mad, would be standing on a feather-thin bridge over the vaults of Hell. How the hell could somebody get up? Wake up? Bear to exist?

_What kind of man loves like this?_


End file.
